


The Clover

by Lady_Therion



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark Castle, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-28 00:36:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5071129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Therion/pseuds/Lady_Therion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What began as an innocent errand leads to a not-so-innocent result.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Clover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AK_Vintage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AK_Vintage/gifts).



> This was written as a belated RCIJ gift to ak-vintage who prompted "spinning after dark." Thank you for being so patient! I hope you enjoy your gift.

* * *

 

She was late. 

Belle raced towards the castle as fast as she could, her cloak flying behind her as she scrambled across the bridge. Why hadn’t she taken Rumplestiltskin’s carriage when she had the chance?! But no, it was  _she_ who insisted that the spring air and exercise would do her good—especially since she spent most of the winter locked indoors. 

_“But I haven’t seen the sun in ages!”_

_Rumplestiltskin glared at her over the rim of his teacup. “Fine by me, dearie. But only because I’m in need of fresh straw. And if you even **think** of running away, know that I will find you and skin you alive.”_

_It was all Belle could do to **not** roll her eyes at him. She would have taken him seriously had he not already made a dozen or so of these “threats” since the day they struck their deal._

_“If you wanted me dead,” she began heatedly, “You would have done so already! Why have me as your servant, then? If magic can serve you just as well?”_

_Then for the first time, Rumplestiltskin looked…startled? Abashed? Ashamed? Belle didn’t know what to make of his expression. His open-mouthed bewilderment seemed to surprise him as much as it surprised her._

_To think! The Spinner rendered speechless by his own maid!_  

 _Without warning, Rumplestiltskin vanished from his chair, only to appear right behind her. His gnarled fingers clutched her waist, not enough to hurt but enough to hold her fast. She gasped as his lips unfurled into a wicked sneer above the shell of her ear._  

_“Don’t test me, dearie,” he said. “My tolerance for ill manners only goes so far. Be back before sundown. Else I’ll have to remind you that Rumplestiltskin **always**  keep his word.”_

_She trembled at his touch, though oddly not in fear…_

The sun had sunken well below the horizon by the time Belle rose from her bed of clover. She had found the field just as she was returning from the village, her basket laden with straw. It was the flowers that drew her to it: light purple buds that grew in the shape of hearts, and were unlike anything Belle had ever seen.

So of course she decided to stay and pick them, thinking they could add more color in Rumplestiltskin’s gloomy estate. 

And of course she decided to stay a while, spreading out her cloak like a blanket as a cool wind touched the wet grass.

The air was filled with the smell of green, growing things…and all that was incomprehensible to her, like sullen and short-tempered wizards, seemed so very far away.

And of course she decided to close her eyes, if only for a moment.

Just for a moment…

What harm could that do?

She only realized her folly once she had woken to the soft light of the full moon.

A growing sense of foreboding crept over her as the grand doors of Rumplestiltskin’s castle opened of their own accord. These belonged to a secret entrance that was hidden by garden walls and thorny bramble.  _They’ll not open to anyone else but you or I,_ he told her once.  _Only hapless victims wander through the front._

Though Belle was fairly certain Rumplestiltskin would find it too tiresome to skin her alive for true, it did not stop the fluttering in her stomach as she approached the Great Hall. She'd been with him long enough to know that he  _did_  always keep his word…whenever his mood suited him, at least. The worst she could expect was some extra burden of chores that she knew very well he could see to himself.

“You’re late, dearie.”

His words were soft and his tone was solemn. Belle paused, having never heard Rumplestiltskin speak this way before. Often, he would speak to her in irritation or mockery—but never had she heard him sound so…withdrawn.

He had retired to his chair by the fireplace, a flask in his hand and…a sheepskin blanket?...spread over his knees. How odd. She had never known him to grow cold. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, and she truly was. Perhaps Rumplestiltskin was disappointed that she had broken her promise? She  _did_  say that she would be back before sundown. “I lost track of the time.”

He did not reply with his usual parry of barbs and snarls. For whatever reason, that only troubled her all the more. “Is something wrong?”

He shook his head and continued to stroke the sheepskin in his lap. “Nothing you can mend, dearie. Leave the straw by my wheel. I wish to be alone.” 

There was a part of her that wanted to say something comforting, but she did not know what to say without offending his pride. She had known him to sulk and brood after spending his temper, so she let him be and returned to her chambers without a word.

Long after midnight, she could hear the creak of his spinning wheel...the sound echoing throughout the darkness...

*******

Belle woke to the sound of shattering glass and panicked shouting. She rose quickly from her bed, tying her robe haphazardly about her waist.

The horrid clamor came from Rumplestiltskin’s laboratory. She had never heard him in such a  _rage!_  Heart pounding, her hand hovered above the door handle. There would be no telling  _what_  he would do if she confronted him like this. But just as she was about to turn back, his screams turned into moans of despair.

She opened the door.

“Rumplestiltskin?”

Everything was broken.

Shards of glass were littered the floor. Strange instruments were strewn in pieces. Pages of books were torn. Phials of potions were scattered. Belle made sure to tiptoe around  _these_  as she made her way towards him. 

He was huddled against the far corner of the wall, his head buried in his hands. There were strange hitches in his breathing, and for one absurd moment she could have sworn that he was crying.

He  _was._

She knelt before him as he pulled his hands away. He did not seem to notice her presence, anymore than he noticed his tears.

“Rumplestiltskin? What’s the matter?”

He blinked. Those golden, owlish eyes making her shiver with uncertainty and…something else. His mouth opened once or twice. This was the second time since yesterday that she managed to render him speechless. Then…

“ _Who_  is Rumplestiltskin?”

Belle’s whole world tilted from its axis.

*******

At first she thought it was a joke, a very cruel joke to pay her back for yesterday. But as much as Rumplestiltskin loved his dreadful theatrics, this was one instance where she believed him to be sincere. Nothing he ever did was without calculation, and there was nothing for him to gain by such a horrible trick.

Besides, she had never seen him so  _afraid_.

“What am I?” he asked her later. “Am I monster?”

He hadn't said a word to her until this moment, even as she led him to the kitchen. She had been surprised at how yielding he was, taking her hand without a thought as she led him down the spiral staircase. He seemed to her like a very frightened child, and it made her heart ache with sympathy.

“Well, you’re not a  _what_ ,” she said gently, as she dipped his hands into a bowl of water. “And you’re not a monster. You’re just…very hurt.” He had bloodied his knuckles during his outburst and Belle, being the practical woman that she was, had thought to clean and bandage him first. She would solve the problem of Rumplestiltskin’s memory loss soon enough.

She hoped.

She set his hands gently on the table and, using one of her sewing needles, began to pick and pry at the splinters in his flesh. He winced and flinched from time to time, but other than that said nothing else. When she finished wrapping his hands in gauze, she glanced up to see him looking at her curiously.

“What?” she asked.

He looked away, his cheeks coloring.

“You’re…you’re very beautiful,” he said.

“Oh. Ah, thank you.”

He nodded, clearing his throat. “So you…you’re Belle?”

“Yes.”

“And we…we are  _friends_?”

 _Were_  they? Had Rumplestiltskin been in his right mind, he would have laughed at the thought.  _The Dark One possesses many things, dearie, but friends are not one of them._

But then she remembered their quarrel from yesterday, and how he never  _did_  answer why he asked for a maid when he had magic at his disposal.

“Yes we are,” she said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. Despite her constant exasperation with him, she didn’t think they were enemies. “Can you remember anything? Anything at all?”

“No…I can’t.”

He looked at his surroundings much like Belle did when she first came to the castle—with fear and uncertainty. It was hard to believe that not so very long ago, when he locked her in the dungeon to teach her "humility," she had secretly wished that he could feel the same anguish that she did.

She was never one to wish ill on others, however, and she let go of her grudge soon enough.

And besides, something told her that Rumplestiltskin was horribly familiar with that anguish already.

“C’mon,” she said, taking his hand once more. “Let’s go have some tea. Things never seem quite as bleak after a cup of tea.”

*******

“So…I’m a wizard?”

“Yes.”

“Am I good wizard?”

“You...ah, that's a _very_ complicated question.”

“Oh.”

That Rumplestiltskin would have questions was inevitable. Unfortunately, she had almost no answers to give him. So without any other recourse, they spent their afternoons in library, hoping they would find some answers there. After all, Rumplestiltskin had not led a life where trouble kept itself at a distance. And should trouble ever arise—which it almost certainly would—he would need his magic more than ever.

“Do you like books very much?”  

Normally, Belle didn’t like to be disturbed as she read, but Rumplestiltskin was so earnest that she couldn’t help indulging him.

He was so  _different_  from the man she knew—the master who took endless delight in teasing and vexing her to no end.

“I do. My mother liked books very much,” she said. “My father had a whole library built in the castle, just for her. The court found it scandalous. They didn’t think reading was a proper pursuit for a lady.”

“But that’s nonsense,” said Rumplestiltskin. “If you were  _my_  wife and wished for a library, then I would give you one."  

Belle blushed, thanking the stars that Rumplestiltskin never allowed mirrors because she was sure she turned a veritable  _scarlet._ Rumple, having realized what he said, looked as though he wished he could crawl under a rock and perhaps die there.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He had been saying that  _many_  times to her in the last few days. It was such a strange phenomenon to see the Dark One apologize! “That was too forward of me.”

“No,” she said. “Please, that was…you’re very kind.”

She meant it too, and hoped that Rumplestiltskin would see her honesty. There was still so much about him that she didn’t know. But without his terrible mask, Belle was finally able to glimpse at the man he was underneath: a man for whom loss was a constant companion and hope was a fragile dream.

“I don’t remember who I am,” he said, finally. “But from what little you have told me, I don’t think I was very kind. Not even to you.” His words held a quiet rage that was not directed at her, but rather at himself. “You said you were my maid…how did we come to meet? Did you come from the village?”

Belle swallowed. “No…”

“Please…tell me.”

Everything about his bearing demanded that she honor him with the truth. She had never seen him look so vulnerable.

“You…came to my village in an hour of great crisis. The ogres had shed many of our people’s blood. My father’s stronghold was all that was stood left, and we knew that it wouldn’t last for long. So I called your name thrice, like the legends said to do...and when you arrived, my father offered gold as payment for your service.”

His hands clenched hard enough to draw blood. Belle rose from her seat, worried that he would reopen the wounds that just begun to heal.

“I didn’t take the gold, I gather. I asked for  _you_  as my price instead?”  

Again, that quiet rage.

She placed her hand against his shoulder. He shook her off.

“Rumple, listen….”

“You lied then. I  _am_  a monster.”

Without another word, he stalked out of the room.

“Rumplestiltskin! Wait!”

He didn’t.

*******

She did not see Rumplestiltskin for the next several days. He did not wish to speak to her, so Belle continued to seek answers on her on.

There were many dusty tomes that referenced mind control and memory manipulation: spells that could erase one's memories and replace them with new ones. Belle found it incredibly disturbing. How Rumplestiltskin ever found such nasty business to be so enticing was beyond her. To steal someone’s memories was such a…a _violation_  of a person’s very being.

Still, she was no closer to a clue than she was when she began her search. There was nothing in his books about regaining what was once lost.

Long days spent in the library were broken only by mealtimes. Though Rumple himself did not remember how to his magic, Belle was grateful that the magic within his castle remained. The fires burned throughout the cold nights, the baths filled themselves with warm water and the food in larder had not spoiled one bit. So Belle continued to do her duties if only because she didn’t know what else she could do. She brought Rumplestiltskin his breakfast, lunch and dinner without fail. And because he refused to leave his chambers, she left the silver tray outside his door.

But she always took care to speak to him before she left.

“Rumplestiltskin?”

“Go away, Belle.” 

How many times did they have this conversation now? Surely, it numbered in the dozens. If he ever  _did_  gain back his memory, she hoped he would consider himself lucky that she was so stubborn. “I'm sorry, Rumple. But you won’t be rid of me that easily. That was a part of our deal. I’ve given you my word.” She paused. “I’ll be up later with your dinner.” 

He didn’t reply. Not that she thought he would.

 _At least, he was eating_ , she thought as she took away that morning's tray.

*******

By pure accident, Belle at last found the answer.

It happened one evening where she decided to retire early to the kitchens. Paging through curses and hexes and bewitchments left her utterly exhausted, so she opened a book of recipes instead and looked for something new to prepare.

When she turned to a table full of herbs, it was then that she recognized a certain type of clover—the very same kind she found in the field near Rumplestiltskin's castle.

It was called  _Persephone’s Keeper_ , also known as  _Demeter’s Ire,_ and its rarity was such that it only grew in only two places: in the gardens of the Summer Palace and a field along the border of King George's lands...

_She had picked the clover herself and left it in the basket with Rumplestiltskin’s straw._

"In small doses,” the book claimed, “ _Persephone’s Keeper_  can be used as a tea that will soothe every crease caused by one’s worries. But in larger doses, its raw form can cause a temporary loss of the self. Though its effects would wear off in time.

“But most mortals need not fear it,” the book continued. “For its properties only affect those who can wield magic. This is because, as the legend would have it, it was Demeter's ardent wish to ward off amorous suitors that would use their sorcery to lure her daughter away from home.”

Belle snapped the book shut and hurried to Rumplestiltskin’s chambers.

The effects were only temporary! That could mean he would regain his memories any day now…

“Rumplestiltskin?” she called from outside his door. “Let me in! I found out the answer! It was the clover I put in your basket. I hope you’ll forgive me, I had no idea it would…oh, but you’re going to be all right, after all!”

There was a strangled cry from within that made her pause.

She placed her ear against the wood. “Rumple?”

“I don’t care what you say," she said, steeling herself. "I’m coming in!”

She opened the door and gasped.

Rumplestiltskin lay in his bed, caught in the throes of a terrible nightmare. He convulsed and thrashed as though fighting off some invisible force.

“It’s all right,” she said, “I’m here, I’m here. Oh, Rumplestiltskin, please wake up.”

He was practically  _drenched_  in sweat and burning to the touch! Just as she was about to fetch cool water, she felt his fingers grab her wrist.

He was awake.

“Belle?”

“Rumple!” She wrapped her arms around him. “Gods, you gave me such a  _fright!"_

“Belle…Belle I…I remember.”

She had forgotten how to breathe.

“Rumple…”

He buried his face in the crook of her shoulder. “I’ve done…so many terrible things, Belle. So many  _terrible_  things. I’ve lost so much…” Then he began to weep, weep as she had never heard a grown man do so. How long had Rumplestiltskin been carrying that pain in his heart? Hundreds of years? Decades upon decades? And just now, he relived every agonizing moment of it.

“I’m sorry Belle,” he whispered wetly against her neck. "For what I did, for taking you from your family against your will…”

“Hush,” she said, running a hand through his curls. “You never let me finish, you know. You never  _forced_  me to go, Rumplestiltskin. I  _chose_  to go with you, just as I choose now to stay.”

“Why?”  

“Because I thought it would be the brave thing to do, and also because…because I know what it’s like to be lonely, to feel different, and to need someone who understands.”

He lifted his head, his golden eyes searching her blue ones. Tears streaked the plains of his face, and she longed to wipe them away. He smiled—a real smile this time, not the feral grin he used to mock the world. 

“And you are…,” he fingered her chin, “Very brave, my Belle.”

It was the way he said it that made her heart soar.  _My Belle._

“Rumple, I should get you some water.”

His skin still felt too clammy for her to be satisfied otherwise.

“Later, later,” he pleaded, still holding her in his embrace. “Stay with me a while. Please…please don’t leave.”

Something inside her twisted and now  _she_  felt as though she would fall apart. “I would never.” Then she kicked off her shoes and lowered herself onto the covers, pressing her lips to his forehead. “I would never leave you.”

***

Rumplestiltskin was awake before she was. It took her a moment to realize that she was still in his bed, and though they had done nothing but lie next to one another, she couldn’t help feeling…shy.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Good morning."

She placed her fingers upon his brow and was pleased to feel that he was no longer feverish. He closed his eyes at her touch and sighed deeply.

“How do you feel?” she asked, her voice still husky from sleep.

“Better,” he said, though she could tell that he was holding back the truth of it. “Belle, I’ve been thinking about something…”

“Yes?”

“I want to set you free.”

Belle sat up. “What?”

“It wouldn’t be fair,” he said, rising with her. “I can’t the bear the thought of imprisoning you here any longer. You can return to your father. Or anywhere in the world that you like. I can give you as much coin as you'll ever need and safe passage…”

“But I don’t  _want_  to leave you!” Belle’s breathing grew unsteady. “ Don’t you understand?” Had she not shown him _nothing_  but her loyalty the night before?

“Belle no,  _listen_  to me.” He grit his teeth against her protests. “There is a darkness in me. Everything and everyone I touch turns to ash. Belle…you are the only other person I’ve come to truly care for in hundreds of years. I’ll not lose you to this darkness for anything. Even if it means that I have to let you go.”

“No.” She pressed her hands on either side of his face, willing him to believe her. “I’m not going to leave, Rumple. Whatever darkness lies within you…we’ll defeat it. Together.”

"No..." 

"Please. You  _have_ to believe me. Rumple, please..."

He leaned his forehead against hers. “Oh Belle…”

Then she kissed him. 

And kissed him again. 

And  _again._

Their sweet and clumsy cadence sparked into something more demanding.

Belle, having never felt such passion before, could not put into words exactly  _what_ she wanted—only that Rumplestiltskin could give it to her.  

“I want you,” she whispered hungrily. Their tongues had begun to touch and brush and entangle themselves with one another and gods, it was all  _so very different_  from what lovers did in her mother’s stories. And that’s what they were now, weren’t they? Lovers. She had all but declared to the world that she would stay by his side. Always and forever.

“I  _want_  you,” she said again. “Do you want me?”

The moan into her mouth told her “yes.” His clever fingers unlaced the ties of her dress. What a state she must be in! Having slept as in his bed in her day clothes with her hair in an unruly, knotted mess…

But Rumplestiltskin didn't seem to care for that, pulling and tearing at the fabric with more haste at each passing moment. She could understand—the urge to feel his skin against hers was  _maddening_. Unwilling to sit idly, she reached beneath his nightgown to trace the length of his thigh.

He froze.

“Belle…no.”

“I  _want_ to see you.”

“I’m hideous,” he told her.

“You’re  _beautiful_ ,” she said, and kissed him again, taking pleasure in the smoky flavor of his mouth. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

Just as he was about to scoff, she lay a hand upon his chest and coaxed him to lie on his back. He gazed at her, utterly enraptured. The Dark One, who has seen everything the world had to offer thrice over, looked at her as though she were something rare and precious. She felt like she could cry. It was a wonder that she didn't.

But no. They were both done with tears. Now there was just each other. Now there was just this.

“Let me see you,” she said again. “Please.”

After a moment, he let her.

She got onto her knees, her legs astride him. Slowly, she reached down and began to pull up the hem of his nightgown. He squirmed, trying to move away from her.

“Belle…no, wait!”

She didn’t. Instead she lowered herself so that she was level with his knees and kissed each one. Then paused when she noticed a strange mark on his right knee. No, not a mark. The muscle and flesh were twisted and  _mangled_  beyond repair. It looked like it could cripple any normal man. How terrible this wound must have been…if not even magic could completely heal it...

“Rumple, what happened to you?”

“An old story,” he said. “A bad memory.” His voice grew bitter. “A reminder that I’m a coward at heart, and always will be.”

“No,” said Belle. Then, with great care, she kissed the ruined flesh. Over, and over and over. “It shows that you’re strong.” Another kiss. “That you can endure…”

Without further preamble, she raised his gown until she reached her true destination.

Though she had never seen a man’s anatomy before, she was not so entirely innocent of it. Stories from kitchen girls to ladies-in-waiting had given her some impression what to expect. She learned enough to know that the rigid and erect flesh was called a  _cock_ , and that its redness and throbbing were clear signs that he was  _aching_.

Just as she was aching to taste it.

So she did.

When her lips touched the soft head with timid little kisses, he cried out as though he were shot through the heart. It alarmed her at first, then only encouraged her as he arched off the bed at every ministration. Using her tongue to follow her kisses, she put more of his length into her mouth. She could feel him jolt each time she took him deeper, the rich salty taste of him enflaming her arousal.

Above her, Rumplestiltskin was making the most  _delicious_  noises, all sweet groans and heavy pants. It unleashed something carnal within her, a craving to possess him fully. To make him hers always.

“Belle,” he rasped. “Oh  _love_ , I can’t… I’m going to…you have to stop.”

She didn’t want to.

“Belle, no. I want…I want to be  _inside_  you.”

It took some effort to urge her away from her prize. The kiss he gave her was ravenous, filled with as much lust as there was love. He pulled off the rest of her gown, just as he hurriedly rid himself of his.

And oh, what a  _divine relief_ it was to finally feel all of him against her.

Parts of his skin were smooth and rough, and Belle wanted nothing more than the freedom to explore all of it. But Rumplestiltskin had other plans, flipping the two of them about so that he lay on top.

“Are you sure?”

Even now, he thought of her. She could burst from the joy of it.

“Yes.”

“Then spread your legs for me,” he said, before kissing her again.

She let her legs fall open, as wide as they could go, feeling so wanton as she did. Her center was slick and dripping, and that he was gazing at her display with such  _greed_  made her soaked with want.

“Wider. I want to see all of you.” He pulled at his cock, making him grow harder. “Oh Belle. So perfect. Here, love, here."

He reached down, placing himself at her entrance.

“Oh, Rumple. Please,  _please_.”

He slid himself inside, breeching her secret place with only the tip of him. But shamelessly, her impatient and eager body only wanted to grasp him to her. She wanted all of him, and she wanted him  _now._

“Just a little bit, love. Slowly now. Slowly.”

Belle keened and cried and mewled as she was filled with his girth. Sweat dripped from her brow, her neck and the space in between her breasts. Rumplestiltskin wasted no opportunity, bending down to cup the right and suck mercilessly at her nipple.

Then he began to thrust, and all she knew from that point on was pure bliss.

He drove into her at a desperate pace, as though they would both die if they did have their fill of each other. She surged toward him with all her strength, the solid friction of his cock making her mindless with ecstasy. 

And  _there_  it was. That wonderful peak. Just on the horizon. They each raced toward it, working one another into a writhing frenzy. 

“Oh gods,” she begged. “Rumple…I’m…”

“Yes, yes! Come for me, Belle. Only me.”

She bucked and bowed as her release washed over her, a tide that plunged her into a sea of such  _heavenly_ completion. Rumplestiltskin faltered, his last few thrusts jerky and rough as he too released inside her. She coiled around him in contentment as the spurts of his seed mixed with her overflowing wetness.

They collapsed into each other, each one succumbing to the warmth of the other's presence.

“I will keep you always,” Rumple whispered to her. 

“And so will I,” she said.

And so they held each other close, neither one of them alone any longer.


End file.
